Rain, Paper and Piano
by rese
Summary: Oneshots with a theme. married!jo/laurie
1. The Writer

_A/N: originally this was going to be a series with Piano, but turns out I wrote in a different tense and it ended up having no sex… so here is a new series I guess. Oneshots with props for plots. I read last night that the piano was essentially the tv in sociological terms in the 19__th__ c._

_L.M.A. owns Jo and Laurie. Too bad she didn't own 'em married-style._

Jo tapped the thin end of her pen absentmindedly against her teeth as she dazed. She was looking out the window as the rain fell against the window idly, the cold dancing across the rose bushes beneath the sill. Her mind stretched far beyond the physical as she dreamt up circumstances she could never experience for people she would never meet.

She was writing and it wasn't going very well. Nothing she could think of seemed substantial enough to commit to paper and Jo blew the hair out of her face in frustration. Her eyes flicked over to her husband who sat playing a series of notes before scribbling furiously at the manuscript spread across the top of his piano. He played the sequence again and she watched as he closed his eyes, losing himself in the passage he'd just constructed.

If only things were going so well for her, Jo thought enviously.

"You know, I can feel you staring at me." Laurie spoke without opening his eyes, his shoulders still hunched over the keys.

Jo laughed and threw her pen to the table.

"Once upon a time this would have been a very different scene," he shuffled his papers together, sparing a glance in her direction. "I would have done all the staring and you all the work."

The rain left glittering streaks down the pane and Jo smiled to see her husband haloed by the glare of the morning. He was always so blissfully unaware of the turns of the weather and it amused her to no end to see him launch off on a walk only to come back completely drenched and completely surprised.

"What's so funny, please?"

"Nothing," Jo said patiently, swinging her legs from their precarious position on the table-top edge. Laurie raised his eyebrows curiously, still looking through his paper as he stood. "Did you even comb your hair this morning?" she asked for lack of anything interesting to say.

"Yes mother, twice if you'd like to know." Laurie put on a suffered look, tucking his neat pile of paper under his arm as he moved across the room towards her.

"Could've fooled me," she smiled as he bent to kiss her.

"I did – how goes the story?"

Jo frowned, huffing as he wormed himself into her chair and managed to pull her onto his lap all at once. "Terribly. Teddy I don't know what's wrong but lately everything in my head is all so scattered. Anything worthwhile flies off and in its place is something horribly mundane."

"Maybe an adventure is called for?"

She cracked a wry smile at that, looking at Laurie from the corner of her eye. "Oh, I know just the kind of adventure you're fishing for, sir."

Laurie pasted on a look of absolute innocence though his hand moved from her waist to her thigh. "I don't know what you're insinuating, _sir_." Jo laughed despite herself when he pushed his paper beside hers to kiss her neck. She squirmed at the ticklish feeling before he pushed her hair back and smiled into her skin, content to hold her close as she returned to her literary frustrations.

"Surely you've had writer's block before?"

"I'm no stranger to it. I suppose it is something I must simply push through."

"It shouldn't be a chore, Jo! Where's the fun in doing what you love if you come to hate it?"

Jo gave him a long hard look, using the hand that had gone around his shoulders to pull at his collar. "Are you telling me I imagined that embarrassing scene just last week of blows and kicks to that very grand instrument sitting just over there?"

"I'd rather that be remembered as manful discontent, but I take your point."

"Well 'manful discontent' or no, it's all very discouraging."

"We have an attic, I think…" Laurie suggested and Jo was surprised to realise she hadn't truly made a place just for her writing since they'd moved. It wasn't as though she'd had no time but she supposed, it was more that she liked having company in this house that seemed so very big for just two people at present.

"How would I hear you play all the way up there?"

Laurie looked surprised. "… How did you manage with Beth downstairs?"

Jo was silent for a moment, looking to the table to push her pen around. "Actually, I don't think… that is, I don't suppose it was ever an issue."

"You like my playing." He meant it as a question but the sheer delight that broke across his features inhibited Laurie from directing it as such. Jo ducked her head as he grinned, infinitely pleased by the idea. "My wife likes my playing," he announced to the empty room.

"I feel like some horrible secret has gotten out and now your head will be bigger than the continent." Jo said, fiddling with the inkwell feeling more embarrassed than she should.

"Why should it be such a bad thing for you to prefer you husband's playing more than anyone else's?"

"I never said such a thing!" Jo dropped the well and looked at him incredulously as he continued to beam proudly. "Honestly, you are such a crowing rooster," she chastised, pulling his ear as he laughed. "I only prefer your Chopin, and your own work."

"That's fair; Beth was unbeatably good at everything else. I remember the first time I heard her play Beethoven…" Laurie fell uncharacteristically quiet and Jo felt him grip her just a little tighter as she played with his collar again. "Well," he cleared his throat. "I shouldn't want you to think I've banished you to the other end of the house."

"Oh it might not be so bad, Teddy. Think what the servants will say of your wife who lives in the attic like some twisted, gnarled ghoul who feasts only at midnight and never tends to her appearance. I'm sure there's a story in that somewhere."

Laurie chuckled at the look on her face as she quickly lost herself to the idea. "Gotten over your block?"

"Actually…" Jo leaned across the table and picked up her pen, dipping it into the well before she began to write.

"Well, I'm glad I could help Little Ghoul." He kissed her cheek and pulled himself out from under her, taking up his papers again.

"I will hate it all tomorrow." She said though she never paused between dipping and scratching along with her pen.

"What will your husband do?"

"He will lace her bread and wine with blood – ah, but the catch – does he feed her, or make her?"

Laurie shook his head fondly, knowing he'd lost his wife for the afternoon.


	2. The Rain

Laurie slid the plate onto the table beside her.

"Potatoes and mutton," he announced though Jo kept writing. Idly he tapped his finger against the wood of the table as he watched her race to finish the paragraph. She'd barely eaten all day in her rush to write as much before meeting with her editor on Thursday and it was never easy to see her in such a mood.

"Mmm…" Jo hummed before finally setting her pen down. She was still reading over her piece as she reached unseeing for the fork and landed her fingers in the mash potatoes. "Egh," she looked up and Laurie laughed at her expression.

"That wouldn't have happen if you paid more attention."

"Yes," Jo rolled her eyes at his lecturing tone. "Thank you." She stretched out to wipe her hand on his sleeve in revenge and a struggle between the two started. Laurie grabbed her wrist as she struggled to catch his sleeve, laughing as he had to bring his other hand up to stop her when Jo lifted from her chair in the effort.

"Hey!" he laughed as she twisted her hand and finally caught his sleeve. "This was a clean shirt!"

Jo grinned victoriously, her writing forgot in the tussle as she leaned over her husband. "I know, I was the one who had to wash it." She kissed him quickly, "Maybe next time you'll remember a napkin for your klutz of a wife." Jo moved back to her seat and picked up her fork, judging with a quick glance to the candle that there was enough time to eat and still finish the page. Laurie recognised those looks all too well and it brought another sigh to the tip of his tongue.

It wasn't as though she was intentionally avoiding him, but Laurie felt rather ignored all the same. She'd spent the entire day chained to the table in their parlour and had only gotten up once for a glass of water before losing herself in her writing once again. He knew, rationally, that she had a deadline to meet and not nearly enough material to please the industrious woman she'd selected as her editor but he also knew that she hadn't shared anything other than a bed with him for four days now.

He missed her, even though she sat not five feet from him every day as they tended to their respective arts.

Laurie leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the table-top as he watched her eat. Jo was one of the most efficient eaters he knew – she'd cut everything as she practically inhaled the potatoes and each chew, each bite was so methodical and only long enough before it was easy to swallow and she was done.

"Slow down, you'll get indigestion and I'll have to hear about it all night."

"I beg your pardon?" Jo raised her eyebrows in a manner he was very familiar with now.

"Stomach. Gargling and all that." Laurie shifted his attention to the other end of the table, eyeing the vase of flowers. Of course he'd offend her when all he wanted to do was spend some time with her. Jo continued eating, a little slower he noticed from the corner of his eye.

Eventually the last scrape of her fork filled the room and he leaned forward, watching Jo push the last mash-topped piece of meat into her mouth. "Can I help you?" she asked with her mouth full at his sudden closeness.

"Well, I was just thinking… how would you feel about leaving that alone for the night?" Laurie gestured to the wad of scribble-filled paper half-in-the-dark. Jo's gaze narrowed carefully before she turned back to him, swallowing her food.

"Teddy," she started seriously before he pasted on his best wheedling look.

"Oh come on, it's not like you have all of tomorrow – and I know you're almost done –"

"Precisely! I'm almost done; if I just finish this page tonight think how much closer to being done I'll be?"

"That's not what I'm saying. Jo, I've barely spoken to you this past week."

"Nonsense – you asked me what I thought of that tune this morning. And! I think you'll find we had a whole conversation about Worsdworth on Monday." Jo sounded less confident as she continued, realising just how little time indeed they'd had together without work in the way. "Oh."

Laurie smiled, a little gentler than he might have two years ago when proven right. "So then you'll leave it?"

Jo appeared pained for a moment as she pushed her plate into the centre of the table. Her fingers brushed the paper gently before she looked back at Laurie and sighed. "Very well – only for tonight, mind! I've a deadline and a lioness to tame."

He laughed good-naturedly, pulling Jo to her feet. "Well I don't envy you that. Come on, I've something to show you." Laurie took her hand and led them around the table and into the little foyer. "I'll get your coat – find your shoes, we're going out."

"I don't know if it has escaped your attention but it's dark outside Laurie." Jo said though she was already lacing her boots and pulling their woollen hats out of the box.

"Never stopped us before," Laurie stood over Jo, holding her jacket out for her to step in. Jo smiled, intrigued despite herself and she rose, pulling her arms through. Doing little things like holding her coat, letting her go through the door first (by pushing or bribing) made something inside of him thrill a little. Jo was his wife and he could do these things for her – mindless, small gestures that she usually grumbled through – and it felt like a dream.

It was windy when they stepped out, rugged up in hats and coats though it was early autumn. Jo shuddered a moment before she thread her arm through his and they practiced walking in time down the road in the dark.

"Just where is this 'something'?" Jo asked, suspicion written across her face. The wind was in their faces now and she crowded closer to his larger form, using his side as a windbreak.

"Don't you enjoy being outdoors? What happened to the girl who went stir-crazy after two days of rain and snow?"

"Bah!" Jo pressed her face against his arm and he continued smiling to the road at his luck. "You know very well that's not what I meant."

"Someone isn't very patient this eve."

"Someone isn't very forthcoming even though it is nine o'clock at night."

"Think of it as payment for making your husband eat alone three nights in a row."

"I must be a very dutiful wife."

"The most dutiful."

"… Are you thinking of your writing, again?" Laurie asked when Jo was silent. He peaked down at her small face as they strode down the dirt road and found her hard to read just then.

"No… only, am I really that neglectful?" Jo stared up at him and he suddenly felt as though he must be towering over her with a dark cloud above his head to provoke such a look.

"Jo!" he pulled them up short and took her shoulders, bringing his face down to look her straight in the eyes. "You can't be serious – you know I don't care for things like that."

"You must, you've mentioned it more than once, Laurie. And I know I've been completely absorbed in this deadline business, but I thought – well I was sure you didn't mind but now I'm not so certain."

Laurie straightened a little in surprise. Her bluntness always had that affect, though in his better moments he would tell her he admired her for it, it was always difficult in the face of it all.

"How can you say that?"

Jo looked like her temper was coming to a rise though she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed – signs he knew that she was trying to hold it in.

"If I wanted a wife who would simper about and fetch my slippers or cook supper and hang on my every word I would have married –" Laurie shut his mouth very quickly at the flash of black across Jo's face.

"No," Jo pushed his arms away. "Go on – who would make you truly happy?"

Laurie stood in the middle of the road looking up to the clouded heavens for help. How had they gotten into this argument in the first place? It was always this way – something would nag one of them and neither of them had the character to hold back so there would almost certainly be a fight. He didn't remember saying anything terrible about Jo's being a wife but she'd certainly taken it that way.

Couldn't they go back to when she was holding his arm and he was bursting to kiss her?

"Jo-"

"No, tell me."

Laurie pulled at his hair. "Why do you always do this! I just wanted to have a nice evening, just with you, no work, no interruptions but it seems I can't even ask for that."

"So I am a terrible wife. Thank you," Jo's face wavered between anger and a crushing sadness before Laurie tried to reach her. She wiped away at her skin at something and he frowned.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I don't know what you mean anymore!" Jo threw up her arms as the temperature dropped further. "It's as though everything you say is supposed to say something else and I just have to _know_. Well I do know one thing Laurie. I know you should have married Amy as you intended; clearly you would have been happier together with your _double entendres_!"

The heavens chose that moment to pour down upon them both. Laurie looked up in surprise as Jo shouted in full exasperation, "What _now_!" She spared only a moment to glare at the night sky as rain fell into her face before she grabbed her husband's hand and they ran to the ditch taking shelter under the tree there.

Laurie, being the taller of them and a gentleman by nature, covered Jo as best as he could without touching her, still feeling the confused anger steaming from her. She pushed her hat off her head, wringing out the sodden material – in the short time they were caught out on the road it had rained heavily enough to soak through the wool and curl her hair.

"Jo," Laurie spoke so quietly he wasn't sure she heard him over the rain. His hand moved to rest against her cheek and she stilled. A moment later she met his eyes and he saw something within those dark-grey depths soften as his thumb wiped the rain off her lips.

"I only want you," he said over the rain, his breath foggy in the air between them. He'd said it before, often enough that she allowed herself to smile at the grass under their boots before she pulled away a little. There was still something she hadn't said, something she needed to say so Laurie didn't argue when she stepped back and pulled her hat back on.

"I'm not trying to be difficult," she crossed her arms. "It's just – with everything so caught up in this deadline - it hasn't been a stroll through the park, chaining myself to that table whilst you eat in the kitchen – I only thought you didn't mind so much."

"I didn't! I don't." Laurie finally caught her arms again. "I don't mind having to eat in the kitchen or watch you scribble away… maybe it is time we get you a desk of your own though." Jo gave him a funny look and he grinned lopsidedly back.

"I guess it is."

They stared at each other in silence as the rain fell steadily. A few drops made their way through boughs and leaves to land on Laurie's sleeve or Jo's collar. It was so much colder now and he could see her shaking as both of them were still wet.

"I just missed you."

Jo bit her lip, her nails catching in the material of her coat before she pulled her arms apart and stepped into him. "I've missed you too." Her hands caught between his buttons and Laurie smiled. He could see every eyelash, dark and wet as she looked up at him, his little wife, so strong, so unsure and completely, wondrously beautiful in the very best of ways.

"We'd best get home."

"We'd best," she repeated and stood on her toes to kiss him. Laurie took his chance and wound his arms around her, deepening the kiss as her hands crawled into his hair under his knit cap.

"You should have seen how much rain was dripping off your nose," Jo laughed, moving her hand over it and he smiled into her palm. She removed her hand only to kiss him against, pulling at the collar of his shirt over his coat as he pushed her hips towards his.

"We're going to have a problem soon if we don't leave," he said, lips tracing the skin of her neck.

Jo pulled his face back up and ran her lips over his, over his chin, his jaw, his throat as she began to unbutton his coat, her hands snaking around to pull his shirt out. "Shh," she mumbled and he barely heard her above the rain.

Laurie twisted them around and pressed her against the trunk of the tree. It was so dark, so wet and so cold but Jo simply grinned up at him, her boots pushing into his as she gripped the front of his open jacket. He watched her, the way her tired eyes lingered on his lips, skipped down to his trousers and her mouth twitched with amusement and danger.

He loved it when she was like this. It was like being seventeen all over again, only now he could kiss her and expect a welcome.

They kissed slowly, huddled together against the tree. Jo's hands couldn't stand still and Laurie was intent on touching skin and soon he found he'd undone every button that could be undone. Her lips were warmer when they touched his now and he was sure he could be struck by lightning right now and die a happy man. His fingers played with the drawstring under her skirt and she clawed at the material on his back as his tongue found her collar bone.

"Teddy," he heard her sigh when his fingers danced lower, across the fabric of her drawers. Her mouth was by his ear now and he could feel her heat there, under the tree in the rain. "Teddy," Jo urged again and he tugged down the cotton, lifted her petticoats to their waists and stepped in once she unbuttoned his trousers.

The wisping feel of wool and sleeker cotton against the heat of their skin, the shake between cold and fury, the dampness of her hair, the smell of grass at their feet all felt surreal to him as Jo closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. He choked into the rain at the feeling of being inside her. Everything was warmer, tighter, wetter and it was so impossible to be pushing her into the tree, to feel her legs around his, the way she pressed her breasts into his chest, curling off the trunk.

Moving felt sacred, like a fervent prayer as she shuddered, her eyes opening to watch him under heavy lids. It was holy ground, this space between them, well-trodden and guarded with such love and care. He couldn't imagine knowing anyone else the way he knew her, the way he worshipped her.

"Teddy," one hand was tight against his left shoulder and Laurie ducked his head. He could feel it coming, burning at the base of his spine, shooting from tip to tip. Elation. Jo's free hand rested against her breast and he pushed his nose further into the skin of her neck.

"_Jo, Jo, Jo_." Laurie whispered though she couldn't hear. Her hips rose with his, one foot arching off the ground to match his pace, constantly shifting against the bark behind her. He heard her gasp into the wind, the constant rain slapping against the mud of the road; he heard it all just then. He saw the dark, indistinguishable patterns on the trunk beside her head; he kissed her cheek, missing her lips as she rolled one final time around his hips, his hand disappearing momentarily.

"Laurie," she shouted for no one to hear and he buried his face into her neck again and finished, choking wordlessly as purity spread across his form, limb to limb and nothing existed.

"God," he whispered, slipping from her when he finally regained control of his body. His hand hesitated in her hair, his thumb brushing the shell of her ear before he stood up properly. Jo's eyes were still shut as he buttoned himself and picked up their caps that had been pushed off in their rush. They were wet and smelt of the earth when he held them.

Jo slowly pushed off the tree, her features so relaxed. She gripped his arm with one hand in a funny curtsy as she readjusted her clothing and was fixed within a minute, a smile like a cat across her lips. It made him want to kiss her again.

"Time to go home," she said, holding his sleeve between her fingers as they walked through the rain and grinned up at the clouds.

_A/N: well I didn't intend on writing another 'm' story but insecure!jo and rain/tree sex – how could I stop. Hope it wasn't too ooc for you. I expect they'd fight and make up a lot to the point where its commonplace._


	3. The Afternoon

_A/N: in celebration of Quirky Del's return (welcome back! You've been much missed) I've finally finished the last – very short – oneshot in this series. That seems to be a bit of a contradiction. Anyway, this is also a peace-offering as I won't be around much for this month – exam period and I've decided to try nanowrimo this year. 10,000 words in, so many more to go. Oh November, you'll be the death of me._

Jo threw her arm out, catching the little clock lazily. She yawned widely as she brought the machine to her face, blinking at the glass. The little hand pointed to the four and the big at the ten and she frowned, catching her own reflection.

"Oh my," she pushed the clock back to its spot on the table beside the bed and twisted her head to the other side.

Laurie sat hunched over scattered pieces of manuscript, scribbling something over the inked notes he treasured. Jo spared a moment to appreciate the sinewy lines of her husband's bare back as the muscles flexed with the motion of his unseen hand, writing away from her gaze. He hummed out the tune to himself, idly scratching his temple as he considered the parchment.

"It's almost four," she announced, unmoving from her position.

Sometimes he preferred to work like this, away from his piano where his mind and hands had nothing better to do than be forced to create. It was a welcomed rest from playing pieces only to realise they were someone else's work. He was working over his latest composition, changing pieces of it, only to erase the corrections realising he'd made them more like the sheet music he left scattered around their bedroom.

Jo loved to watch him. He was so absorbed with the paper and notes that he forgot she was even in the room. It was a welcomed change from following her about the house some days. Especially after the week of confinement they'd experienced with such bad weather.

The afternoon rain continued to trickle lightly against the window pane and Laurie looked back over his shoulder at her. She grinned as his eyes followed the shape of her sprawled limbs across the bed before he returned her look.

He was so predictable sometimes.

"Have we eaten yet?" he asked, dropping the paper absentmindedly on top of the others. He'd insisted all afternoon that there was a certain order to his mess, but Jo had not been able to determine just what the order was at all. "I can't remember."

"No," Jo sat up, now well accustomed to the feeling of sheets against her bare skin.

"I'm starving," Laurie pressed a hand into his stomach, falling back against the bed.

"You know where the food is," Jo grinned, poking his shoulder as he pouted helplessly beside her. "Get it yourself."

"Fine wife you are; your husband is slaving away for the bread on the table, the very least you could do is bring it to him."

Jo arched an eyebrow at him. "Haven't we been through this?"

Laurie grinned madly back, reaching up for her shoulders. "I seem to remember the argument ending well last time," he said, pulling her down for a kiss.

"Oh so that's what this is about," Jo managed before her mouth was engaged. She laughed into his mouth despite her words.

"Caught me again! Why are all my schemes so transparent, lovely wife?"

"Oh, flattery now! That will get you nowhere, fast."

"I know, I've decided to switch tactics and go straight for what will fail first."

"That is the most moronic thing I've ever heard."

"Now you're just challenging me to beat that."

Jo snorted. "Yes, and you would too." She untangled herself from Laurie's grip and leant against the bed-head. It was a rich oak, built solidly, enough to last generations, or so he'd told her that first night, two years ago. Personally, she'd rather future generations not know about what took place in this bed.

Her eyes flicked back towards her reposed husband and she rolled her eyes to see him still pouting up at her.

"Come on then, you have been working all day."

"Can't I get it in bed?" He grinned cheekily up at her as she got out of the bed in question.

She frowned when his hand reached for her arm, stopping her from picking up her nightgown off the floor. "Teddy, please." Jo watched as he shuffled over to her side of the bed, his johns slung low against his hip. "For the sake of all suffering wives across the country, if I have to make your dinner, allow me to at least make it clothed."

"I'll get out of bed if you promise not to pick up that dress."

Jo scoffed, rolling her eyes at the silly grin on his face. "I don't think so. Really what if I were to accidentally burn… important parts," her face coloured at the thought.

"Well then, I'd be willing to kiss it better."

"You are incorrigible," Jo swatted Laurie on the nose and picked up her nightdress. Laurie sighed dramatically and looked a great deal like it was a loss to the world to have Jo dressed.

"You know this means I get to be served in bed now," he stretched out along her side of the bed, tucking his hands behind his head as she moved to the bedroom door.

"Only if you want burnt eggs and toast," she said, hand on the knob. Laurie's smile fell to a frown as he realised he would have to supervise the making of his meal, as he had to with any meal made by the hands of his wife.

She never did learn the trick of not spoiling gravy or paying attention to the ingredients she heaped into a bowl. Jo's cooking was best left supervised, and with that thought in mind he hopped out of the bed declaring, "Last one in the kitchen's a rotten egg!"

Laurie bounded down the stairs, his heavy footfall echoing throughout the house as he laughed feeling Jo's hands grab for his middle, trying to pull him behind her. They made it to the bottom of the staircase miraculously without injury and he leaped into the kitchen, crossing the threshold with a "Hah!"

Jo moaned theatrically.

"Well now, doesn't the winner get a kiss?" He asked, pulling Jo closer by her waist.

"I don't think people much care to be kissed by rotten eggs."

"I think I can bear it." Laurie ducked his head to reach her lips but she pushed him away, leaning across the bench behind them for the flour.

"Oh no you don't," he said, backing away from the wicked gleam in his wife's eye. Laurie looked around the kitchen in seconds for anything to arm himself with, for Jo had been cooped up in bed all day and he knew this was about to get messy. Lucky for him, she'd left one of her unpublished scripts on the breakfast table, beside an extremely sad looking vase of petunias.

He picked up the papers, holding them like a shield in front of his face.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jo's handful of flour hesitated as her wide eyes switched between his and the manuscript.

"Are you willing to find out?"

Jo's mouth twisted as she considered how serious he was. Deciding it wasn't worth it she threw the flour back in its sack, dusting her hands over the floor. Laurie dropped the wad of paper back in its place and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Jo from behind.

She stilled, wiping her hands on her nightdress.

"Happy now?" she asked, leaning over for the eggs they'd left out after last night's meal. He watched the shadows of raindrops through the window freckle her skin with grey as they walked together over to the stove. He kept his arms tight around her and tried not to trip up her heels as they waddled, feet moving in time.

"Yeah," he drawled, pressing his nose into her cheek.

Jo cracked the eggs on the side of the heavy porcelain bowl, pulling the whisk from the drawer underneath. The rain was light, almost stopped by now and Laurie looked out to see their garden in various shades of green, washed with fresh dullness in the afternoon light.

"Watching to see I don't put arsenic in your eggs?"

Laurie dropped his chin to her shoulder. "I wouldn't put it past you to confuse the creams or forget you've let the stove run too hot."

"Har-har," she said sourly, though she was happy to leave his arms around her waist as she continued to cook their first meal of the day.


End file.
